


The Dysfunctional Allied Road Trip

by Humourtalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humourtalia/pseuds/Humourtalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Allies decide to take a road trip, but don’t anticipate an act of bovine intervention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dysfunctional Allied Road Trip

“And then…” America spoke with an air of mystery as he brought his adventurous tale to a close. “He awoke, and discovered it was all a dream!”

There was a collective sigh from the rest of the Allies. France groaned, Russia furrowed his brow, and China let his head hit the seat in front of him. It was, however, England who spoke up first.

“That was your ending?” He complained. “That was disappointing, even for you.”

America rolled his eyes. “Whatever, man.”

“I hate to agree with…him.” France muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “But that was awful.”

“What he said.” Russia nodded.

“We wasted two hours of this journey on a cliché.” China grumbled, still not sat upright. “I hate you all.”

“Oi, what did we do?” England turned around and stared down at China’s head, buried in the back of his seat.

“Don’t get me started.”

“Hey, guys?” A soft call came from the driver, Canada. “Could you avoid arguing? I need to concentra-!”

He was cut off as he slammed his foot down on the brakes, sending each country sailing forward before their heads collided back into their headrests. Hard.

“Jeez, what’s your problem? We get it, don’t argue.” America rubbed the back of his head, nursing the pain as best he could. When he looked toward Canada, he noticed the fellow North American was staring straight ahead, white as a sheet. America followed his line of sight. All of the allies did. And, together, they saw it – the large, patchwork cow which had made itself comfortably at home in the middle of the road.

“Stupid cow.” China murmured, patting his hair back into place. “This skull has lasted me twenty-six dynasties, it better not break now.”

“You’re fine.” Russia smiled, apparently not feeling the pain the rest of them did. “Is Canada okay?”

“Yeah.” Canada slowly nodded. He continued to stare directly at the cow. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

“Just beep it, bro, it’ll move.” America suggested, and so Canada did. However, his small, barely-noticeable presses of the horn did not even catch the attention of the bovine beast. Its lack of movement sparked several more suggestions, all at once.

Amidst the varying advice, England’s tired-sounding “beep louder” was not taken notice of at all. Huffing, he repeated himself, over and over, yet was continually ignored.

“Leave the poor thing alone.” France leant forward, head right next to Canada’s. “Just swerve around it, oui?”

“What another car comes?” Canada’s voice was quieted by fear. “What if the cow moves in front of the car?”

France sighed. “I don’t know.”

“How about he beeps bloody louder!?” England growled, already losing whatever cool he managed to possess.

“Hey, he is doing his best.”

“Clearly, he isn’t. If he was doing his best, he’d beep bloody louder!”

“Don’t raise your voice at him!” France retorted, unmoved by England’s furious stare.

There was a few seconds of silence between the two Europeans. China groaned, knowing what was about to happen. Before anyone could say anything else, France and England entered into a full-blown argument, the regular insults being tossed about without a care.

“Maybe their shouting will scare it away.” China grumbled.

“I know!” Russia smiled widely, face being lit by his sudden wave of genius. “I will go and talk to the cow. He will move for me!”

“Cows can’t negotiate, Russia.” America raised his voice so he could be heard above the current fight in the middle of the car. “If anyone’s going outside, it’s me. I’ll just move it out of the way, problem solved!”

“That’s dangerous!” Canada whimpered. He whipped round to ask France to back him up, but turned back when big brother was too busy arguing to notice.

“It’s not dangerous, I’ll be fine.”

“If it is too dangerous and America dies,” Russia began.

“I won’t die.” America interjected.

“Then I can talk to the cow instead.” Russia finished, seemingly ignoring the other country’s unimpressed comment.

“You can’t talk to cows, Russia!” America informed him. “Lions, maybe, but not cows.”

“For the last time, America…” Canada began, before America cut him off too.

“Hey, Aslan’s real!”

“This is not solution to problem of cow.” Russia reminded them, having to repeat himself to be heard over the surprisingly (or unsurprisingly) still ongoing fight between England and France.

“How about you think of a better one than talking to the damn cow, then?” America shot back, kick-starting another argument between he and Russia. Canada sighed. He was not, however, the most frustrated country in the vehicle. China had taken to growling quietly to release his irritation, though his coping mechanism grew louder by the second. Soon enough, the low murmur grew into an almighty roar.

“Stop!” He yelled, catching the attention of the whole minivan, who had decided his fury was more dangerous than their arguments. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” China chanted, banging his head against the seat each time he spoke the word. “Just run it over and I will cook it!”

If the car wasn’t silent before, it was now. The countries stared at China, flabbergasted, and glanced at each other to confirm that they should be as shocked as they felt, all of them hoping the other would be the first to respond.

“Well,” America mumbled, breaking the tension. “I mean, I could get some great patties out of that thing. Anyone want burgers?”

“I’m quite partial to beef wellington, myself.” England muttered, suddenly on board with the idea.

France scoffed. “Maybe you could scare the cow away with your cooking.” He muttered under his breath, even though England heard him, his eyes widening upon doing so.

“I’ll have you know,” England retorted. He was visibly tearing up. “That I have been taking courses, and my teacher says I’ve improved!”

“They need glasses.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“It does, look!” France waved his hand in front of his face. “No glasses! Because I can clearly see you are an idiot and an insult to cuisine.”

“Not again.” China groaned, slumping in his seat as the same old argument raged. “Why do your fights have to be so cliché?” He asked, though rhetorically.

“I don’t know, man, I think this is the best yet.” America laughed.

“I don’t understand, are we really going to let England cook it?” A concerned Russia interrupted America’s light entertainment to ask, knowing China would not answer.

“Sure, why not!?”

Russia gasped in horror, making America laugh even louder. “Best road trip ever!” He announced, turning to his brother to share the excitement. His face dropped as soon as he saw the Canadian, however, who looked utterly miserable. “Uh, dude?” America asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, Canada’s head dropped forward, right onto the steering wheel. His forehead slamming against the horn, it beeped loudly and for long. The other countries yelled and cursed, covering their ears. Canada sighed, and, composing himself, sat back up again. The incessant noise gone, the allies slowly lowered their hands again, completely clueless as to what would happen next.

“You’re…” Canada grumbled, taking deep breaths. “None of you are helping!”

“Sorry, man, but I…” America was about to say, but it was his turn to be cut off.

“No! No excuses! You’re all so caught up in arguing and shouting at each other that none of you can actually decide on what we’re going to do about this cow! Do none of you want to help me? Do you even want to be on this road trip – China, don’t answer that – like, really? You can pull your heads out of your asses to yell at each other the same old things over and over but not to help me?” Canada turned round to continue his rant. “France, we get it, you think England’s cooking is bad. Find some other insult, damn it! And England, telling me to do the same unhelpful thing over and over isn’t working! Figure something else out! And Russia-!”

“Uh, Canada?” America gently tapped Canada’s shoulder.

“Just a second! Russia, you can’t just talk to the cow! It doesn’t understand you, and it doesn’t want to be your friend! Just leave it alone!”

“Canada…” America mumbled, his tapping growing harder by the second.

“China, if you’re so fed up with the situation, shouldn’t you be the one trying to get us out of it? Think of something other than banging your head on the car, you’re not helping yourself!”

“Canada!” America yelled.

“That’s another thing!” Canada whirled back round to face America. “Can’t you just…”

America was pointing out of the front window. Canada followed his direction, ending up staring at the cow. It was ambling across the road, over to the other lane, and leaving their path clear.

“Oh.” Canada nodded. “Okay.”

He pressed his foot on the accelerator again. The minivan trundled along, past the cow, and then sped up once they were clear of the obstruction. The only sound, however, was that of the engine. The allies remained silent after Canada’s ultimate dressing-down. America glanced occasionally at his brother. France and England sat, arms crossed, facing away from each other. China slouched in his seat, out of Canada’s mirror’s sight. Russia gazed out of the window, at the other lane. He watched a car speed by, vaguely recognising those who sat within it.

“Hey,” He turned and addressed the whole car, who glanced at him with minor interest. “I think I just saw those Axis guys going the other way.”

 

\-----

 

“Can I drive now?” Italy asked Germany, leaning between the front seats of the axis’ car.

“No!” Japan answered suddenly.

“What he said.” Germany concurred. “And put your seatbelt on.”

“Okay.” Italy moved backward, sitting in his designated seat, alone at the back. He hummed for a few seconds, looking at the fast-moving scenery before quickly becoming bored. He spied instead the map Japan was holding. “Hey, Japan, can I navigate again?”

“No.” Japan shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because you drew on the map. It is illegible now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry…want me to draw another one?” Italy queried.

“You can do that?” Japan turned to look at him in surprise. “Yes, that would be most helpful.”

“Cool!” Italy leant forward, taking the pencils, paper, and map Japan handed him.

“Italy, seatbelt.” Germany reminded him, glancing into the rear-view mirror. Italy shot back into his seat.

“It’s already on!” He smiled. Doing his best in the not-so-stable car, Italy began to re-draw the map he had already managed to turn into a piece of art.

“This is fantastic, Italy.” Japan admired Italy’s careful work. It was majestic even in their current environment. “You truly are a skill-!”

Germany hit the brakes hard. He and Japan rocketed forward, and then back again, while Italy tumbled to the floor, smacking his head on the seats in front of him on the way down.

“Seatbelt!” Germany reprimanded. He sighed, glancing at the crumpled pile of Italian on the floor, and then returned his attention back to the road.

“Why did we stop so suddenly?” Japan queried, looking forward as well. Italy, meanwhile, rubbed his bruised head as he sat back up, making sure to put his seatbelt on before staring at whatever the others were staring at.

And, together, they saw it – the large, patchwork cow which had made itself comfortably at home in the middle of the road.


End file.
